


Heed the Signs

by igi_pigi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood (minor), F/M, Fluff, Somewhere in between
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igi_pigi/pseuds/igi_pigi
Summary: Thor wakes up from a nightmare. Is it just a dream, or something more?[Post Thor2, Pre Thor3.]





	Heed the Signs

**Author's Note:**

> In Norse Mythology, there were 3 signs before Ragnarok to warn Odin and Thor of the impending doom. One of them was three consecutive years of freezing cold.
> 
> This is somewhat based on that. Hela is only briefly in it.
> 
> I personally don't think the dream sequence is too intense. But if it is triggering or unsettling, please let me know, I'll put up the warning.

_Home • (noun)_

_1\. place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family._  
_2\. place of origin, where a person feels they belong._

 

~~~

 

White. Nothing but white. He looks around, and only the lifeless color prevails.

Focus starts to set in. The white are the mountains that paint the canvas of his home, Asgard. But they are not partially white as he is use to their glory. They are covered in snow. Heavy snow. So are the waters that surround the land. Frozen and lifeless.

Is he in Asgard? He looks around. Only ice surrounds him. He looks down, bringing his hands up to assure himself of his existence. And he sees that his hands are drenched in blood - some is fresh, some has dried long ago. Is this his blood?

He stumbles backwards, bewildered. He hears his name being called in the distance - to get his attention to the other side. It's his mother's voice. He quickly turns around.

He sees not his mother, but the land of Asgard, destroyed to debris, and covered completely with corpses. His heart skips a beat at the sight. His eyes must be deceiving him - this can't be... Every Asgardian dead, blood stained bodies lying at his feat. Is that the blood on his hands?

He feels a dark presence behind him. He turns to see a tall, hooded figure in the distance. Their black robes a stark contrast to the whiteness of the surroundings. Suddenly, they are right in front of him and he feels locked in place, unable to move.

The next moment, he is being dragged by the figure, her feminine hands holding him painfully by his hair. His own bloody hands are chained behind his back. He tries to speak, protest, but his voice and body both fail him.

When she stops, he realises they both are somewhere above the ground, on a pedestal of sorts - elevated so all of Asgard can see him, or rather he can now see better the expanse of the dead that forms the floor of Asgard. His father lies dead in the forefront, both eyes hollowed out. He thinks he can recognise some others, but he is not sure, everything is hazy.

The woman takes her hand off his hair and he collapses on the ground, then braces himself up as best as he can. She takes her hood off, standing in front of him now. He can see her from behind and all he sees is a helmet of sorts, with huge, reindeer like horns. The horns seem to get bigger every passing moment.

What is happening? Who is she? Did she kill everyone? Did he do it? His home is destroyed and everyone is dead while he is in chains at this woman's feet and mercy. How did this happen?

"The Crown Prince of Asgard," her ice cold voice cuts through his thoughts, "he who abandoned his home, his honor for a lowlife whore. How could he be worthy? He bought this upon you."

And with a wave of her hand, he sees fire explosions coming his way and tear through him.

 

~~~

 

Thor wakes up with a start. Heart pounding so hard in his chest, ears ringing with blood pumping - he tries to hold onto to anything he can get his hands on. He gets ahold of the mattress in his left hand and the blanket in his right.

What was that? What did he just see? Where is he now? His eyes and cheeks are wet, his hands shake. He looks around in desperation.

It is dark but visible enough. His eyes widen as the first sight in focus is white, this too familiar. It is the walls of the bedroom of Jane's home, their home. Relief washes over him - he's at his home. He lets himself loosen a bit, still sitting.

His senses returning to him, he realises something touching his stomach, and looks to see Jane curled up and asleep beside him, her hand outstretched and clutching the fabric of his t-shirt like a child.

Everything comes back to him now. Jane had been sick for a few days. She insisted it was just fever, but he had been worried. She looked so weak, hadn't been able to work too (much to the dismay of her associates). And this evening, he had tucked her in bed for some rest after medication, but she insisted he stay close to her. So he had gotten in bed and sat next to where she lay, bracing himself up on the headboard. She nodded off almost instantly, while he intended to stay awake. Evidently, he must have fallen asleep sometime later. He looks at the clock on the wall. 11pm.

He relaxes some more, finding comfort in her hand still touching him. He brings his hands up to cover his face, wiping the tears away, and scrubs his face.

Thor then readjusts the blanket back on Jane's petite form and even though he doesn't want to lose the comforting contact, he carefully frees his t-shirt from her grasp (her temperature seems normal to him, but he himself might be burning lava right now - he can't tell). He needs to get out of their-- her bed and get some fresh air. He's feeling smothered.

As he turns to his left to get out of the small bed and move towards the balcony ahead, he is greeted by the sight of clouds hovering and thunder rumbling - visible through the open balcony door and windows. He sighs, suddenly feeling drained, and wills it to stop.

The thunder does but the clouds stay, refusing to let moonlight in. And the whiteness of them unnerves him. He is thankful of Jane's calmative medication for making her sleep through the loud thunder roars in the sky he must have caused in his sleep. He would be so guilty had he disturbed her rest in his unconsciousness.

He gets out of the bed, still shaking a bit, and slowly makes his way to the balcony, which is spacious enough for his liking, unlike anything else in Jane's home. He takes a look at Jane to make sure she is asleep and finally lets his head fall in his hands, propping himself up on his elbows on the not-so-high handrail, and stays like that.

It was just a dream. Nothing more than that. He has bad dreams so often, he is so used to them - this should not even bother him. Why is he getting so worked up about this one in particular?

Because it felt like anything but a dream. So, so real. He can still feel the burn of the fire on his skin, the pull the woman's grip in his hair, and the dead faces etched in his eyes. They were right in front of him, staring back at him, holding him blameworthy.

Was it a vision of the future? Or maybe a warning?

Should he seek his father about this? Though he has his apprehensions about him entertaining Thor's "childish nightmare". And it isn't like he can go to his mother. He takes a quivering breath at the thought of her. He would not have even needed to tell her his misery, just lay his head in her lap and all would be right in the 9 realms. The way she would comb her fingers through his hair, hum an old lullaby, kiss his forehead, and he would forget everything, her calm embrace so enchanting and peaceful.

Peace... He wants to laugh at himself for so naively hoping that he can ever find peace. Thor slumbers even further on the railing, feeling so helpless and--

He is startled by the sound of glass shattering behind him. He turns quickly, prepared to call forth Mjolnir from where it rests on the bedside table, and sees Jane sitting on the bed, her back turned partially towards him and supporting herself on the table on her bedside. She is holding an empty glass in one hand, and looks very distressed.

"What do you think you're doing?" He almost screams the words at her. She nearly jumps. And he is at the foot of the bed in no time, in front of the mess of the broken water jar and spilled water. "Couldn't you have called me? I was right here."

"I-- I'm sorry. I didn't-- I was--"

"You what, Jane?" That tone of his tells her that he is actively demanding an answer. She tries to conjure up one. " 'Was just trying to get water--"

"And you could not ask me? Have I ever denied? How can you be so careless, Jane? You could have hurt yourself." His voice is still raised, and he must be appearing quite intimidating too, judging by her frightened look.

He didn't mean to shout, he would never... He just could not stop himself. She must have seen him on the balcony and still decided against calling him for help. And how weak must she be if she couldn't hold a jar of water even!

He wordlessly takes the empty glass from her hand and sets it on the table. Then gets on his knees and starts collecting the glass shards to set them aside before he can clean the water. The silence between them is unsettling him.

"I didn't want to trouble you." he hears her say, almost a whisper, as if she doesn't want him to hear. "I've been doing enough of that already."

He wants to laugh at that. He really does. He raises his head to look her in the eye. "Yes, I can see very well." His voice is now lowered, but still condescending. "Have you any idea how much you frightened me?"

He lowers his gaze again. But instead of resuming with collecting the shattered glass, he closes his eyes and sighs. He's been too harsh on her. She is already low, the least he could have done was not yell at her. She only wanted to not bother him for so simple a task like getting water, he knows this.

He looks up again. "Jane, I am--"

He stops mid sentence at the sight, his voice caught in his throat. Jane is facing towards the balcony, eyes welling up, lips pursed tight to suppress her cries.

Thor blinks. What has he done?

"Jane? Jane, I..." he calls out desperately, outstretching his hand to hold hers but she backs away, physically squirming away from him, towards the headboard, tears falling freely now. It was part reflex, part voluntary from her.

But Thor feels as if he got stabbed in the heart. His Jane is afraid of him. He did this. He hurt her. He drove her to this. How can he be so insensitive with her? He may be distressed over a foolish dream, but he has no right to take it out on her, dump his failures on her. She is not well either. He should have been considerate.

He screws his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, still kneeling in front of her. Jane is weeping silently, hand on her mouth, looking in her lap. He opens his eyes and slowly, warily reaches out to take her hand again, completely prepared to accept her not letting him touch her. He deserves it if she wishes so.

She flinches a little at the contact - another dagger to his heart - but lets him take it. And he smiles at that despite himself, feeling ever so grateful.

"I am truly sorry, love." he says sincerely, trying to search her eyes through hair hanging lose from her still lowered head. "I should not have raised my voice like that. I didn't mean to. It's... It's this dre--"

"I've done this to you." She cuts him off and looks at him. Her eyes and voice are soft, though both a bit rough from crying. "I've frustrated you so much. God, all you've been doing lately is tirelessly taking care of me. I'm sorry. This is so not what you came here for."

What he came here for? He is reminded of the cloaked woman's words from the vision-- dream. He brushes the unpleasant thought aside and smiles at Jane, amusing her.

"Are you apologising for being sick? Something that is beyond your control?"

He moves his hand to her cheek, tentative still, and wipes her tears with his thumb. She leans into his touch, holding onto his forearm with both her hands.

"Jane, I will gladly tend to you for the next 100 years if need be, but I simply do not wish sickness upon you." She chuckles, drawing a smile from him. And he continues, "I swear to you, it isn't you I was troubled about, even though it looked like it. And I am sorry for shouting."

And that is it. He knows he can end it there and she won't prod further. But she deserves to know the cause of his fit. Else she would continue blaming herself. But telling her would also mean that she will start worrying about him instead.

Of the two inescapable bad choices, he eventually makes one. Earlier, he'd said this without really thinking. Now, he does so a bit cautiously, still unsure.

"It's this dream. I think I have had it before too. It's so real, as if..." and he regrets it immediately, seeing her get curious as she moves his palm slightly away from her cheek, resting it on her collarbone and holding his arm to her chest.

"As if?" She asks.

He shakes his head. He should not have told her. What was he thinking? "It's probably nothing. You shouldn't worry about that. You need to rest."

"Thor, please just tell me." She pleads, tugging on his arm.

"It was water you got up for, right?" He strokes her jaw like he often does, and gently frees his arm from her. Then finally stands up to move towards the kitchen. He does not miss the disappointed look on her face. "And let us have some of your favorite soup to go along with it."

And that is the end of the discussion, because he decided so. Jane would not bring it up again. He just needs to behave normally, not let her feel as if something is wrong. So that she can see and know he is fine. So that she doesn't worsen her health worrying about him of all things.

It won't at all be hard for him, Thor thinks. He has had to do this so often - be everyone's rock, put up a smile and pretend everything is alright - that he thinks he doesn't know how else to be now.

And he does it yet again. He indulges himself in taking care of Jane. He gets her water, cleans up the mess on the floor, makes her some delicious chicken soup, feeds it to her, and settles her in bed again - being what she calls "the perfect boyfriend/nurse". He likes doing all this - no matter what she says - he likes doing anything that makes her smile.

It does take his mind off the stressful dream. But he would be naive to think it would simply leave him. He doesn't.

They did not eat much anyhow, for it wasn't really dinner time. Nor was she hungry. She said she wanted to just sleep, which he so appreciated. For once, she willingly asked for rest instead of wanting to work.

He gets into the bed, not before taking his t-shirt off, which is Jane's incomprehensible rule regarding him being in bed, and notices the clear sky, moonlight shining bright.

Jane scoops closer to him, and not content with holding just his bicep, she drapes her arm across his chest, feeling his pecs. Thor smiles at her one last time and faces her away from him, spooning her. Because she would keep roaming her hands all over him and do everything but sleep if she stayed like that. And because he doesn't want to face her.

She doesn't mind one bit, and sighs dreamily against him, pulling him even closer and tighter, wanting more and more contact. He takes it to her having really forgiven him for his earlier behavior. Not that he could tell if she was pretending for his sake.

He kisses her shoulder through the fabric of her oversized t-shirt. Then waits for her breathing to get even, which won't take long. Humans become so weak in their sickness. Even after sleeping through the evening, she was still so heavy-eyed. Crying must have drained her too - he realises guiltily.

When she is well and truly asleep, he slides out from her embrace, and heads towards the balcony. He wishes he had the luxury of options of places to brood in, he really does. But this isn't Asgard.

The cool air feels welcoming on his unclothed torso. He leans on the handrail and tries to engage himself in observing the quiet street or the beauty of the town. Anything but that dreadful dream.

But he can't. The woman's voice is all he can hear, ringing in his head like bells. Why can't he get that out of his head? Aren't dreams supposed to fade away the moment one wakes up? Then why does this feel like he has been to hell and back. The vivid clarity of everything he saw makes his skin crawl.

The air suddenly feels too cold. He thinks about putting a shirt on--

But his father would have felt something too, if this was a sign. And he would have certainly told him. Maybe Heimdall would know something regarding this. He should ask him. Then again, he too would have told Thor if it was something he should know.

Maybe it really was just an imbecile dream, he is thinking way too much into it. And he made Jane cry over it - he lowers his head at the thought of her tear stained face that, it seems, is going to haunt him for a long time - the guilt so unbearable. She might have, but he cannot forgive himself. How, just how could he do that to his Jane? He shakes his head. All he wishes is to atone for every tear of hers, if there were some way - penance himself for hurting her.

"Do I have the honor of joining Your Highness this fine evening?"

Thor almost jumps. Jane's voice was soft as always, but how did he not feel or hear her approaching? A warrior should be more vigilant than that.

He feels so, so exhausted but he puts on a smile and turns around to see Jane standing there and looking at him expectedly, with that beautiful smile of hers that brightens his own. She is still in that oversized t-shirt and shorts - hot pants she called them.

"I used to love being called that." he tells her, putting a hand on her waist. "In a way, petty or vain - it made me feel special. Whole of Asgard, addressing me with such revereor, looking up to me..."

He trails off. Will everything remind him of that wretched dream from now on? He is surprised she didn't prod him this time. But he notices her searching his face. So much for acting normal.

He turns completely towards her and leans backward on the railing, resting his back on it. Then hooks both his arms on her waist and pulls her to him. She carefully steps on his feet for leverage, both barefoot, and hooks her own arms around his neck, still smiling wide. The fabric of her t-shirt feels soft on his bare chest.

"You should be resting." Thor says with a smile, enjoying the proximity. They both know he doesn't really mean it. It feels almost like a reflex to him at this point, having said this countless times over the past few days.

"So should you." Jane retorts, casually.

"I was only getting some fresh air." He brings his hand up and brushes his fingers through her hair. He personally would like it to be a bit longer than they are presently. But he is never going to tell her that. "There is only so much one can sleep in a single day."

Jane purses her lips. "Is that why you were here 2 nights ago too? And few nights before that?"

Thor stares at her. And the position he locked himself in with her allows him no escape from her piercing gaze.

"You think you spare me by not telling me things," she continues, knowing he would not have answered, "but honestly, it only worries me more that something is bothering you this much."

She moves one of her hands to his heart, pushing herself slightly away from him.

"Even if I'm not going to be any help, I can at least be a listener. Or you think I'm not worth that even?"

"Jane?"

"It pains me to see you like this. I feel so useless and helpless that--"

"Jane!" He grips her sides with his hands, holding her in place and making her look at him. "You do so much for me than you realise."

He knows he doesn't need to say more. Her expression change from dejected to pleasantly surprised assures him of that. He cups her cheek in one hand and kisses her forehead. And she instinctively goes in for the hug, hugging him as tight as her weak self can afford. He can barely feel anything, but he appreciates the sentiment.

They stay like that, her head on his chest, feeling his heart beat, and his head on top of hers, breathing her in. Whatever it is - her hair cleanser, he thinks - it's intoxicating. Or maybe he likes it so much because he associates it with her.

He thinks he can stay like this forever. Hugging her, touching her, holding her so close - It has got to be one of his most loved things in the 9 realms. The feel of her against him maddens him, she has no clue.

And again, he knows this can be it. He can end this conversation right here and she won't ever touch this subject again. But he wants to be honest with her. She wants to know, she willingly asked. It isn't a burden for her. He can at least try.

"I saw Asgard in ruins." Thor cautiously starts, not breaking the hug, finding cowardice comfort in the fact that she can't see his face. Jane stills in his arms, also not breaking the hug, giving him room to speak however he feels comfortable. "Everything frozen and lifeless. Everyone dead. Father, Heimdall, the other warriors... Every single Asgardian. I saw their faces - dead and staring me in the eyes."

He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. "I brought this devastation upon them."

Jane yanks back to look at him, confused. "No you did not." She almost declares the words. But she did not see what he did.

"It was me."

"How are you so sure?"

He looks away from her. "Dreams of death and destruction aren't uncommon for me. They hardly unnerve me now."

Even though he doesn't answer her and completely steers the conversation away, she doesn't interrupt him, content with whatever he is giving her, whatever he is comfortable in sharing. He can only feel grateful for how understanding she is.

"But this wasn't a dream." He says with a finality.

"Because dreams aren't supposed to be real." Jane completes it. "Feel real."

Thor looks back at her, and nods slowly. "This was a warning."

Of what? He doesn't know. Is Asgard in danger? He would have known or done something about it had he been there. But he is not.

He is here, on a realm so far away from home that Asgard could be burned to ashes this very moment and he wouldn't have a clue. He can't go there, and leave Jane behind. And by being here, he feels as though he is being unjust to his home. Neither can he just pick her up and take her with him.

He wants to do it. He wants to do it right now. Swoop her in his arms and fly to Asgard, start a life there with her. So that he is present at all times to defend his home from any dangers that might wait about. And Jane can study the environment there, which is far more advanced and fascinating to her (she is so ahead of everyone in her realm anyway). So she won't be useless there, like he is here.

Funny how he has all that sorted out in his head - except he can't ask something this big of her. He so wants to, it's on the tip of his tongue - but he can't. He cannot just expect her to uproot her entire life here for him. He doesn't.

He slowly shakes his head. Jane has her hand on his cheek, stroking his beard, silently comforting him in his turmoil, even though he isn't really telling her anything.

He looks at her.

"I cannot escape this, can I? No matter what I do, I will wrong someone. If only I could do right by everyone."

She looks a bit lost this time. He thinks she didn't really understand what he meant by that.

"And what about doing right by yourself?" So she gives the best response she could come up with her understanding. And he does respect the thought.

"That is irrelevant, love." he tells her the truth, smiling sadly. She is visibly disappointed, but doesn't say anything and lowers her gaze. Thor readjusts his hands on her sides to get her attention.

"Don't ever feel that you are useless, Jane." He says softly, looking into her eyes."You are my strength. You are my peace."

She stares up at him, mouth open, completely at loss for words. This is a good sight, he thinks to himself, seeing her so endearingly dazzled. He likes it.

"I want to kiss you right now," she breathes, finally finding her voice, "but I'm all sick and gross and I don't want y--"

He leans in to close the distance between them and shuts her up with a chaste kiss. He intended it to be chaste, at least.

He instantly deepens the kiss, not giving her a chance to resist. She brings her arms around his neck to pull him even closer. He wants to tell her that they are already too close as it is, the position they are in. But he finds himself pulling her too, hands running up and down her sides and back. Then he stills himself.

Her hands are still roaming all over him, wanting more. She slides one down all the way his stomach and hooks it on the waistband of his black pyjamas, tugging at it. Then brings it up again to rest on his bicep.

As they break away, she whispers, breathless, "I think I made you up in my head." Thor smiles and she gestures as though talking to someone on her right, " 'Look, my boyfriend is a Norse God.' "

He looks around, clueless.

"Oh no no, that was just an expression." She corrects herself and lightly pats her head, mentally berating herself for making a reference he didn't understand.

He can't say why, but he really likes this fancy term she uses to address him. He is her 'boyfriend'. Sounds sweet, much better than 'mortal friend', which she was called in Asgard.

Jane has stepped off his feet and taken his hand in hers, pulling at it. "Come on let's go inside." She gestures behind him. "Storm's coming."

He looks and is surprised to see dark, heavy clouds hovering over them. He didn't cause this. Or did he?

Maybe it's him. Maybe it is that vision, dream. Maybe it is some warning. Or maybe it is just Midgardian weather. He brushes all the possibilities aside. He is too exhausted to overthink this labyrinth yet again.

He wants to relish what he has. Not worry of what's to come. He is and always has been prepared to face the trials that seek him. This would be no different.

Thor holds Jane back, almost yanking her arm. She can barely react as he pulls her toward him and swiftly picks her up bridal style. She grins wide, knowing that look of his.

He would have waited for her to get better, but he needs, wants to lose himself in her for some blissful moments. Just him and his his Jane. Forget everything in the 9 realms and have a few moments of pure ecstasy in her arms, selfish as it may be.

No matter what happens, he always has Jane with him. Jane, who never asks things of him, never presents judgement, even bears his stupid and irrational fits of anger and idiocy, and still, still only tries to comfort him. His forgiving, understanding, kind and lovely Jane. Did he make her up in his head?

He smiles wider to match her own beautiful one, and leans in to kiss her forehead and takes her to bed.


End file.
